Page 32 of Romancing the Heiress
Did that include all the times her mother had verbally abused her? Or the occasions she’d raised a hand or a switch to deliver a point that her words could not?
No, nothing could be more awful than that, and yet Leah couldn’t deny that heartbreak, even the second time, was a horrible, searing pain. Not that it hadn’t been bad the first time, when she’d left Marrywell. When she’d left Phin. But she’d had to go, and she had no regrets about doing so. Especially when it now seemed there would not have been a future for her with him, regardless of the time or what had passed between them. They could be the best of friends and share secrets as well as passionate kisses, but they were simply not meant to be.
“You look more maudlin than usual,” Mrs. Selkirk observed from a bench adjacent to the one Leah occupied.
Did she typically appear maudlin? Leah knew better than to ask. “I don’t feel maudlin.” No, just disappointed, sad, angry, and disconsolate. Well, maudlin wasn’t far off. Might as well include that too. Not that she would tell Mrs. Selkirk that.
Mrs. Selkirk angled herself toward Leah. “You often wear a very blank expression. I assumed you were unhappy. Is that not the case?”
Leah couldn’t believe Mrs. Selkirk really cared. “I’m quite content.”
“I should hope so since you dragged us here to your birthplace.”
Forcing a smile so she’d appear lessmaudlin, Leah asked, “It’s turned out well, hasn’t it? Genevieve looks to have her pick of gentlemen, and even Mrs. Dunhill seems to have made a match.” She was spending more and more time with Mr. Bilson. In fact, they were currently on a promenade, and Leah was sure she’d heard them discussing the brewer’s field. That could become quite raucous in the evenings, and she wondered if that would be appealing to them or not. Leah rather thought Mrs. Dunhill possessed a more…wild nature than Mrs. Selkirk.
“I confess I didn’t think Elinor would find success with the festival.” Mrs. Selkirk sniffed. “I do hope Bilson isn’t giving her false hope. Or worse—empty promises.”
“He seems a genuine fellow,” Leah observed. And anyway, Mrs. Dunhill was a mature woman, and if she wanted to have fun at a country matchmaking festival, where was the harm in it?
Mrs. Selkirk shifted back toward the dancing area. “Ah, here comes our maiden fair. Remember, Miss Webster, you’ve turned your ankle and aren’t dancing tonight.”
That was the other reason for Leah’s irritation. Mrs. Selkirk had told her late that afternoon that she didn’t want her dancing tonight. It was Leah’s primary focus to support Genevieve, and she couldn’t do that if she was dancing. What hogwash. Leah knew it was because Mrs. Selkirk didn’t want her partnering with anyone who was on Genevieve’s list, and that included Leah’s previous dance partners: Phin and, inexplicably, Mr. Mercer.
Genevieve returned from her third set, which she’d danced with Mr. Mercer. She was flushed, her cheeks a perfect shade of pink, and smiling. “I do need a rest,” she said with a laugh after thanking Mr. Mercer.
He turned to Leah. She braced herself for the refusal she would need to deliver.
“I understand you’ve an injury this evening,” Mr. Mercer said with a sympathetic nod. “Else I would ask you to partner me in the next set. Another time, I hope.”
Why did he want to dance with her, a nobody companion? She suddenly wanted to know very badly. Dammit. She wanted that bloody dance.
“Yes, another time,” she said before gritting her teeth.
After he departed, Genevieve sat down on the bench beside Leah.
Mrs. Selkirk stood. “I see a page with ratafia. I’m quite thirsty.”
Leah watched her go and was shocked she hadn’t made Leah fetch it for her. Probably because she was supposed to have a weak ankle.
“I don’t suppose she’ll get me one,” Genevieve murmured.
Surprise jolted Leah, and she turned toward her charge, who never even hinted at finding fault with her mother. “I can get it,” Leah offered.
Genevieve turned toward her with an eager expression. “In a moment. I’m glad for the chance to talk to you without her present. I think my mother wants me to accept a proposal from Mr. Mercer, but he’s not proposing to anyone.”
“I didn’t think so. He’s been rather frank about his committed bachelorhood.”
“Exactly.” Genevieve clasped her small, gloved hands and twisted them together nervously. “I want to accept a proposal from Phin, but I don’t know if he’s going to ask.”
Phin?She was calling him the same thing that Leah did? Leah wanted to toss up her accounts. How was she going to manage thinking of them wed? Of their undying happiness? Of the life and family that they would build together? Oh, she was now well and truly ill. There was no need to fib about a pained ankle.
“I think the chances of him asking are high,” Leah managed to say. Her voice sounded odd—breathy and strident and utterly unrecognizable to her own ear.
Genevieve’s vivid blue eyes rounded. She leaned forward. “Do you really think so?” She sucked in a breath. “Or do youknowso?”
Leah didn’t know anything. Just that afternoon, his lips had been locked onhers. But by this evening, he was back to attending Genevieve and was nowignoringLeah. “I don’t know anything for certain,” she answered tightly. “What of the other gentlemen who’ve been paying you attention?” There were at least three or four.
“I like them, but I don’t share a bond with any of them the way I do with Phin regarding music. That is all we speak of,” Genevieve said rapturously, her gaze softening.
